


At A Whisker's Distance

by moonix



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Cats, Family Bonding, M/M, Magical Circus AU, Soft Foxes, so many cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: Dazzling sights to amaze and perplex! Marvel at the air-dancer, gasp at the amazing delights of the magicians and charmers, wonder at your fortune spread before you! All this and more, if you dare to step behind the curtain's veil at the Foxhole Circus! - In which the Foxes are all part of a magical travelling circus and Neil spends some quality downtime with his family (and cats).





	At A Whisker's Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broship_addict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broship_addict/gifts).



> Written for the AFTG Summer Exchange 2017, for broship-addict!
> 
> Dear Meghan, you asked for “friendships with any of the foxes – feel good scenes with all of the foxes – cool fantasy aus – Andreil with their cats or with their friends' children/pets” and I tried my best to incorporate all of these and make it as feelgood as I know how. I was so happy that you were my giftee for this exchange, since you've drawn me two beautiful fanart pieces for my fics already, and now I finally got to do something for you in return. I really hope you like it, you're such a cool person and an amazing artist!!
> 
> Many thanks to my betas Janie and Reilly for many helpful comments and ideas!! Reilly is also responsible for the super cute title and the snazzy summary :D

Neil takes one last bow in mid-air and steps onto the platform. The solid ground feels almost wrong under his feet for a moment before he gets used to it again. Applause shakes through the tent like a hot desert wind and Neil curls his toes into the wood of the platform to ground himself as the lights turn off and Nicky's summer-sultry voice starts revving up excitement for the next act. He's down the stepladder in a heartbeat and lets Matt guide him behind the curtain, blinking black spots from his vision when they reach the dimly lit dressing room.

“That was phenomenal,” Matt cheers, thumping his sweat-damp back. “And that new outfit! Allison's really outdone herself. One might say you look... smoking.”

He holds up his hand, producing a puff of fragrant smoke that disperses in the air. Neil grins breathlessly and reaches up to re-tie his hair. He's really going to have to ask Renee for some bobby pins next time, to stop it coming undone during the act. It's a major pain sometimes, but the rare occasions when Andrew runs his fingers through it more than make up for the hassle.

“Thanks, Matt. I'm gonna go cool off a bit. You okay here?”

“Sure,” Matt hums, a slow smirk beading on his mouth like condensation on a chilled glass. “Go see your man quicksharp, you've got forty minutes before the big finale.”

“That's not-” Neil squawks, flustered at how well Matt knows him, but Matt just laughs and gives him a push toward the exit where Dan catches him and swings him around like he weighs nothing.

“You'll catch a cold out there like that, little bird,” she chides, picking up someone's cardigan and throwing it at him. Her daughter Belle is tied to her back in a shimmery turquoise baby sling, hiccuping in her sleep. Neil presses a quick kiss to her forehead, happily breathing in the homely, milky-malty smell of her as she squirms.

“See you later! Break a leg!”

He waves at Matt, who blows another puff of smoke and a kiss his way and earns himself a playful slap on the shoulder from his wife. The cardigan is Erik's and hangs down to Neil's thighs when he slips into it, but Neil is still overheated from the stage lights and the exercise anyway and decides to just leave it slung over the nearest tree branch. The air is cool by now, a welcome breeze swirling up the leftover warmth from the day, and Neil hums and skips as he makes his way around the tent to where he knows Andrew is waiting.

“Hey,” he breathes, sidling up to him and holding out his hand for a cigarette.

“Don't you look sparkly tonight,” Andrew drawls, passing over his packet and taking a drag from his own.

Neil looks down at himself and laughs. He's still wearing his glittery orange stage outfit, radiating heat and sweat and adrenaline as he leans in close and cups his hands around the cigarette in his mouth. Andrew's lighter snicks and flares, another spot of orange burning a hole into the gauzy night air that carries the scents and sounds of a crowd riled up in all the good ways, just a tent flap away.

Strangely, it still feels like they're the only two people in the world. It always does, with Andrew.

“Good show?” Andrew asks, tilting his head back and blowing smoke against a black watercolour sky. Neil grins and takes a stage-drunk, lurching step into Andrew's space, steals the cigarette from between his lips and a kiss while he's at it.

“Like you weren't in there, watching my every move,” he murmurs. “Come on, I'll buy you a toffee apple and then you can help me get changed after the finale.”

“You're so needy,” Andrew says. The way his fingers dig into the side of Neil's hip betrays the calm tone of his voice. Neil shivers himself up against him, suddenly feeling the chill after all, and kisses a topsy-turvy trail down Andrew's throat with an open mouth.

“Always for you,” he hums, and tugs on Andrew's hoodie. “Andrew, I'm cold.”

“Should've brought a jacket.”

“Mm. I did, but I left it by the back entrance,” Neil pouts.

Andrew's fingers scratch down the rough, glittery fabric of Neil's costume, then drag up the inside of his thigh before retreating. He doesn't resist when Neil fidgets his own hands up underneath Andrew's hoodie, barely bats an eye when Neil takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls.

“You owe me popcorn as well now,” is all he says after Neil has finished peeling him out of the garment. The symbols on his black t-shirt glow faintly in the dark, shuffling around like lazy star constellations, one eye blinking on his shoulder and a snake coiling itself up near the hem. There are more on Andrew's arms, tattooed by Renee's steady hand and infused with her magic; flowers folding and unfolding, a bee fluttering its delicate wings, a small fox flicking its tail back and forth in the soft crook of his elbow. Neil loves running his fingers over them and tickling them into motion whenever Andrew lets him.

He snuggles into Andrew's hoodie and starts walking towards the food stalls, revelling in the feel of the soft grass under his bare feet. The hoodie smells of burnt sage and has cat hair all over it, and it's about two sizes too big for Andrew and even larger on Neil, who has to roll up the sleeves to free his hands.

“Hello Andrew, Neil,” Renee greets them as they wander up to her booth. “Lovely night, isn't it?”

Neil leaves Andrew to talk with her while he hops next door and buys the promised toffee apple as well as some chocolate strawberries for himself and Renee and a bag of peanut butter popcorn for Andrew. When he comes back, Renee is showing Andrew how to use her newest charm – a small bottle on a necklace that predicts the weather, miniature clouds currently pressing up against the inside of the glass – and Renee's black cat is nosing about Andrew's legs.

“Thank you, Neil, that's very sweet of you,” Renee says as he hands her some of the strawberries. Andrew wordlessly relieves him of the toffee apple and the popcorn and Neil crouches down to say hello to the cat, munching on his strawberries and scratching behind the creature's soft ears. She chirrups and the dry, trodden-down grass beneath her paws turns fresh and green for a moment.

“Sounds like a good crowd tonight,” Renee muses, head tilted in the direction of the tent. “Who's on right now? Thea?”

“Mhmm,” Neil hums. “Kevin was having a mental breakdown about the new act earlier, but I think she found a way to distract him for a while.”

He grins and stands up, wiping his chocolatey fingers on Andrew's hoodie. Andrew makes a disgusted sound – whether at Neil's behaviour or Thea's methods of distracting Kevin, Neil isn't sure – and nibbles the rest of the toffee off his apple before passing the sad remains over for Neil to finish.

“I like your new costume, Neil,” Renee smiles. “Allison did a good job.”

“Thanks,” Neil says around a mouthful of apple. “Andrew likes it, too.”

Andrew glares at him, though the effect is rather ruined by his bulging cheeks and popcorn-sticky hands. A wide blue mouth inked on the back of his hand opens and sticks out an equally blue tongue when he gives Neil the finger and Neil laughs, almost choking on his apple.

“I have to go back for the finale,” he says. “Hope the crowds aren't too overwhelming later, Renee.”

“Take care up there, Neil,” Renee says, infusing the words with her magic until they billow and glow with good fortune. Neil gives her a two-fingered salute – a gesture shamelessly pilfered from Andrew's limited repertoire – and crunches down on the apple core until only the stem is left. Andrew rolls his eyes and takes the wooden stick from him, poking him back in the direction of the main tent with it, and Neil manages to relieve him of another kiss before he obeys.

He is partnered with Allison for the final act. She's already waiting for him, poured into her matching candy-pink costume with her hair braided and twisted up on top of her head. Neil is still wearing Andrew's hoodie and she quirks an eyebrow at that, but thankfully refrains from commenting as she pushes him into a chair and attacks his hair with a wet comb.

“You got cat hair on your costume, Josten,” she chides, clucking her tongue. Her nimble fingers charm two small braids into Neil's hair, one on either side of his head; then she scoops the remaining loose curls back into a ponytail and traces one long, pink fingernail over the now exposed tattoo at the back of his neck.

“Cute,” she mutters, tapping the small fox paw. Neil shivers and instinctively leans away from her touch. He can't help it; there is a reason he chose this spot for the tattoo, and having anyone other than Andrew touch him there feels... weird. Not right.

Matt calls them back on stage a moment later and Neil lets himself tune back into the magic of the air around him, feeling around for footholds and centring himself as he shakes off the pull of gravity and takes his first step off the stage. Allison meets him halfway in a dance they've choreographed together, practising and refining and practising again over the past few weeks; Neil can feel the crowd hold its collective breath when Allison throws him and he lands in empty space, perfectly poised on the tips of his toes, before letting himself fall again.

Walking on air feels very different from walking on solid ground, but that's exactly why Neil revels in it; the careful balance of freedom and control, magic bunching under his feet strong enough to be almost tangible, buoying him up. He has to keep moving at all times if he doesn't want to sink back to the ground, which works well in the context of a performance. It's a skill that he and Allison have down to an art, weaving a tantalising back-and-forth between entirely airborne movement and more traditional acts with the trapeze; further enhanced by some of Matt's specially curated magical effects.

“Time to fly, little bird,” Allison mouths just before giving his foot a gentle boost where it rests in her palm. Neil somersaults through the air and lands in a downy-soft puff of Matt-made clouds, giggling to himself.

Running never used to be so much fun before he joined the Foxhole Circus. It's a good thing he can run all he wants now without ever running away.

~

It takes a while for the crowd to disperse after the finale. Riled up from the show, they descend on the food stalls and smaller tents, faces shining with excitement and laughter and residual summer heat, turning the meadow into a bouncing castle of voices and sounds and snatches of music. Neil helps tidy up the main tent and allows Matt and Dan to feed him some sandwiches, joking around with Kevin who is always much more agreeable after a performance. Dan has handed Belle off to Erik, resident baby whisperer, and Wymack is making the rounds, handing out bottles of water and pats on the back to anyone who gets within range.

It's long past midnight when Neil finally gets to make his way over to the twins' tent. The last stragglers are finally leaving and Aaron looks up from where he's rinsing out a big teapot, a scrying bowl and some cups in a tub of water outside the tent, scrubbing viciously at the patina. Neil gives him a jaunty little wave and Aaron narrows his eyes and grumbles something under his breath about a dire accident in Neil's near future that Neil cheerfully ignores. Andrew and Aaron are, unfortunately, a double act, whether they like it or not, and Neil has learned to tune out most of Aaron's open suspicion and blatantly made-up fortunes for him in favour of focusing more of his attention on Andrew instead.

The inside of the tent is dimly lit and smells of sandalwood and just-extinguished candles. Neil is instantly beleaguered by cats and has to gently remove several claws from the fabric of his costume before he can venture behind one of the beaded curtains where Andrew is tidying up the tarot cards.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning against a tent pole. “We're all done. Can I sleep in your trailer tonight?”

Andrew and Aaron share a trailer, but these days Aaron usually stays over with Katelyn. It's a convenient arrangement, because Katelyn's sharing with Thea, who likes to make use of Neil's absence in the trailer that he shares with Kevin whenever Neil spends the night with Andrew.

It all, of course, hinges on Andrew agreeing.

“Needy,” Andrew says again, straightening up and stretching his arms over his head. Neil happily observes the way his t-shirt rides up to expose the soft swell of his stomach, more symbols swirling on the pale skin: a pair of knives lining his hipbones, fidgety runes freckling his side, the silhouette of a small cat curled protectively around his belly button.

“Mm,” he agrees. “Can I, though?”

“Yes,” Andrew sighs. “Come here.”

Neil steps close to him, bare feet burrowing against the packed dirt. Andrew cups his hands over Neil's hipbones, pulling him further into his space, and Neil shivers despite the warmth in the tent. He lets his eyes fall closed when Andrew traces his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, resisting the temptation to suck it into his mouth – Aaron is still right outside the tent and the sound-dimming charms in the canvas need renewing.

“Let's go? Now?” Neil murmurs hopefully, feeling the loss keenly when Andrew removes his other hand from his hip as well. Andrew wraps it around the back of his neck instead, a heavy, soothing weight that keeps Neil grounded. Renee infused the tattoo there with an echo of the feeling so that Neil can invoke it every time he feels restless or unsafe, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. Andrew's physical presence is a magic all on its own.

“Get the cats out of here,” Andrew says. “I need a cigarette.”

He leaves Neil standing in the middle of the tent, surrounded by cats, and Neil sighs and begins the laborious process of herding them all outside. The minute he has convinced one of them to leave the tent, another one comes nosing back in, and when Aaron returns with the tea things he's trailed by yet another one that Neil has never even seen there before.

“They follow you, idiot,” Aaron mutters in passing. “Just go outside and wait.”

Neil picks up the grey kitten that Betsy gifted them last month and that Andrew has unfortunately named Queenie just to annoy Kevin. Queenie the cat promptly took a liking to Kevin, and she seems grumpy that he isn't around tonight but lets herself be carried outside with minimal fuss. By the time Neil has dealt with the rest of the cats Andrew is gone, leaving Aaron to put the locking charms on the tent. Neil wishes him a good night and gets a glare and a flick of his fingers in return that sends a gust of cold wind in his direction.

Queenie wriggles out of Neil's arms when they pass by Kevin's trailer, but two of the other cats continue to follow him further down the row to the trailer parked at the end. Neil recognises Sir because he's the biggest of the lot and King because Nicky accidentally charmed her fur pink last month – it's growing out slowly, giving her a patchy, cartoonish look. Sir has made a habit of licking the pink bits, which King tolerates with long-suffering grace.

“Come on, you two,” Neil hums, tapping his fingers on the door to the twins' trailer. They scramble past him when it opens, nearly making him trip, and Neil wipes his damp feet on the rug and grabs the fox-ear mug that hovers impatiently at his elbow. “Is that hot chocolate?”

Andrew is sitting cross-legged on his bed, half-obscured by the curtain. Neil crawls into the little alcove with him and tugs the curtain shut all the way, cocooning them in. He takes a cautious sip of his drink and makes a pleased sound when he discovers that it's barely sweet at all. There's a hint of spices and mint, complementing the chocolate, and he sighs at the warmth that prickles through his limbs at every sip. Probably one of Nicky's special concoctions, then; infused with his particular brand of comfort magic and cheery charms.

“You're still wearing that,” Andrew says, pointedly looking at the orange fabric of Neil's costume. His own mug has a handle styled like a cat's tail and is topped off with a towering pile of whipped cream that must be held up by magic alone.

“Mm, you haven't helped me out of it yet,” Neil reminds him. King noses her way behind the curtain and into Andrew's lap, closely followed by Sir, who flops down at a respectful distance and blinks his eyes at Neil with a purring sigh.

“Not in front of the children,” Andrew says drily, scratching behind King's ears. She bats her paw at one of the moving tattoos on Andrew's wrist, making one of the flowers bloom bright pink at the contact, and Andrew scoops up a little cream on his finger for her.

“You're spoiling them,” Neil chides.

“Just this one,” Andrew says.

They finish their hot chocolates in comfortable silence, broken only by the purring of the cats and the distant tinkle of the wind chimes outside Renee's and Allison's trailer. Neil bends down to put his empty mug safely on the ground and, finding Andrew's eyes on him when he straightens up again, makes a show of wriggling his ass so that the sequins catch the light of the floating candles. Andrew glares at him and he winks, then slinks himself over so he can put his head in Andrew's lap and his nose in the silky fur on King's belly.

“Menace,” Andrew mutters, tracing the small braid on the side of Neil's head with the pad of his thumb before tugging on the orange tie that holds the rest of his hair together. Neil makes a tiny obscene sound as the curls tumble free and Andrew cards his fingers through them. Andrew responds by grabbing a handful and pulling, hard enough to hurt but still in the weird twilight zone of bordering on pleasant overstimulation.

“Mmndrew,” Neil mumbles, eyes falling closed. “Sleepy.”

“No,” Andrew says, tugging on his hair again. “Up. Come on.”

Neil sighs but lets himself be manhandled into a more or less upright position, laughing a little at the indignant sound King makes at being shoved off Andrew's lap. Andrew guides him to the tiny bathroom at the back of the trailer and they brush their teeth side by side, Neil half leaning on Andrew with a towel around his shoulders to protect his costume from toothpaste-induced ruin.

“You're not sleeping in that,” Andrew says when they're done, pinching the fabric between two fingers. Neil turns around obediently so Andrew can unhook the clasp at the back and peel him out of the sleeves, then steps out of the rest and drapes it over the back of a chair as neatly as he can manage. When he turns back, Andrew holds up a hairbrush and beckons him closer.

“Glad to see you didn't go commando this time,” Andrew grunts, snapping the waistband of Neil's underpants against his skin. Neil grins and nuzzles into the crook of his neck, tip-toeing his own hands up under Andrew's shirt while Andrew brushes out his hair for him, careful not to undo Allison's braids in the process.

“Are you though,” Neil hums a bit belatedly, kissing an old, faded hickey on the side of Andrew's throat, delighted when it makes him shiver. Hickeys are especially fun ever since Neil found out that they tend to attract some of Andrew's tattoos in the hopes of getting kissed or tickled by him, and he is tempted to suck a fresh one there, make the thin, sensitive skin bloom purple under his mouth and maybe bite, just a little bit –

“You're too tired,” Andrew murmurs somewhere near his ear and gives him a little shove. “Go to bed.”

He waves his hand and the candles start flickering out one by one. Neil sighs and crawls back into the sleeping alcove, squeezing himself under the sheet in-between King and Sir and chasing Andrew's scent in the pillow. Andrew joins him a moment later, wearing the t-shirt Neil left here last time he slept over, and Neil thinks drowsily that he's going to have to borrow something of Andrew's tomorrow if he doesn't want to put his costume back on and risk incurring Allison's wrath on the way back to his trailer.

Not that he ever minds having an excuse to steal Andrew's clothes.

~

The next morning is muggy and slow. Clouds are curdling in a hazy sky, just like Renee's weather-in-a-bottle charm expertly predicted, and Neil pads sleepily to breakfast, hunched in Andrew's most threadbare cardigan; the one with elbow patches in the shape of fat purple cats. He is quietly triumphant about managing to sneak it out of the trailer – Andrew is very possessive about this one and doesn't usually let him take it. Most of the others are already clustered around the fire pit in various states of wakefulness and Neil sits down beside Matt with some fruit and a cup of coffee, mumbling a vague greeting. Belle is swaddled in the crook of Matt's arm, watching with wide-eyed fascination as Neil peels a peach – he isn't usually fussy about fruit, but the fuzzy skin has always felt _wrong_ to him somehow and he ate the last of the nectarines yesterday to calm his nerves before the show.

“Where's Andrew?” Matt asks around a yawn. Dan is half asleep on his shoulder, her hands loosely curled around an empty mug, and Neil sucks peach juice from his fingers and reaches for his coffee.

“Doing his morning tarot,” he says. “He doesn't like having anyone around for that.”

“Ohh, did he throw you out?” Matt laughs, earning himself a poke in the ribs from Dan. Neil shrugs and finishes his breakfast, then stretches out his legs in front of him, bare feet soaking up the warmth from the nearby fire. Dan prods Matt into getting her another coffee and Matt gently dumps Belle on Neil, who is never entirely sure what to do with a baby but rolls with it anyway, stroking her soft tufts of hair and humming a disjointed tune. When she starts fussing he tries bouncing her on his leg with mixed success, and then Andrew sits down next to him, straddling the bench, and relieves him of the responsibility by draping Belle over his shoulder until she's half upside-down and squealing with delight.

“I will never understand why you're her favourite,” says Matt as he comes back with two cups of coffee. One gets snatched by Dan and the other by Andrew, and Matt sighs in defeat and sits down with empty hands.

Andrew takes one sip and shoves the mug at Neil with a grunt.

“Get your own sugar,” Neil tells him blankly. Andrew grunts again, displeased, and goes back to drinking his coffee black, one hand keeping Belle steady on his shoulder as she burbles and chews happily on the fabric of his hood. Something soft winds past Neil's feet and he bends down to pick up a cat – Nomad, big and grey, unofficially adopted by Aaron, though he will deny his fondness for her to his grave.

“Aw, look at you guys being all domestic and sweet!”

Allison plonks herself down on the bench next to Dan, looking flawlessly casual with her hair in a bun of carefully contained chaos and about fifty percent less make-up than usual. Renee has successfully coaxed Katelyn and Aaron over to their group as well and sits down cross-legged on the ground wearing rainbow leggings and a t-shirt dress, and the last to join them are Thea with a sleepy Kevin in tow and Nicky and Erik with their dog, an excessively friendly papillon with giant ears who is a perpetual nuisance for the cats. Getting the occasional swipe of a claw to the face doesn't deter him from valiantly trying to make friends with them, and Neil can't help but see a few parallels between dog and owner there, though he keeps them to himself.

“Don't,” Thea says to Kevin just as he's opening his mouth to start dissecting their performance last night. “You know the rule about waiting until everyone's had a chance to fully wake up and have coffee.”

Kevin makes a face at his breakfast but gets gently persuaded by Aaron, Katelyn and Erik to make plans for going into town later to do some sight-seeing. Allison, Nicky and Matt want to go shopping, and Renee has a meeting with a local potioneer for supplies.

Neil nudges Andrew's foot and links their pinky fingers together on the bench between them when he has Andrew's attention.

“What do you want to do? We should do a grocery run, we're almost out of cat food.”

“Fine,” Andrew says, adjusting his grip on Belle who has fallen asleep. Andrew has that effect on babies and cats, Neil muses; and sometimes on Neil as well – he just can't help but feel calm and safe in his presence, though every time he voices that thought to one of the others they give him one of those slightly doubtful looks, and Neil both loves and hates that they can't see that side of Andrew. Hates it because Andrew is so much more than people give him credit for, and loves it because that makes it something special and secret just for him.

“Staring,” Andrew hums, tightening his pinky finger around Neil's in gentle warning.

“It's just because you're so pretty,” Neil teases, and Andrew shoots him an unimpressed look and disentangles his hand.

“Neil,” Matt whines, putting his chin on Neil's shoulder. He has to bend down awkwardly to do it, but that doesn't ever keep him from trying. “Stop flirting with your boyfriend, it makes me scared for your life.”

“Andrew's not going to stab me,” Neil scoffs, patting Matt's hair. “He needs me to feed his cats and entertain him when he's bored.”

“He's also holding a baby,” Dan says pointedly on Matt's other side.

“I don't need anything,” Andrew, predictably, protests. “Those cats are like weeds, they don't care if we feed them or not.”

Nomad makes a chirruping noise in Neil's lap and Neil reaches down to tickle a small flower from between her toe beans. He tucks it behind Andrew's ear, ignoring his glare, and presses a quick smooch to Andrew's cheek before setting Nomad back on the ground and stretching until his joints pop.

“I'm going to take a shower,” he announces. “Let me know if you want to come to the supermarket with me later.”

There's no answer, but he hears the heavy tread of footsteps behind him as soon as he turns to walk to his trailer and smiles.

~

“How about ice-cream?”

Neil doesn't wait for Andrew's answer and skips down the aisle to the frozen goods. Icicle fairies are fluttering around advertising new products, and Andrew swats irritably at a particularly persistent one and joins Neil by the ice-cream, standing a little too close and peering over his shoulder.

“What are you in the mood for?” Neil asks and taps his fingers against the glass. “We should get the matcha for Aaron, it has cheering charms, look. And the lemon sorbet makes you float!”

Andrew snorts softly, a warm gust of air on the back of Neil's neck that makes him shiver.

“You can already float on your own, idiot,” he murmurs. Neil cheekily takes a step up into the air, perpetually amused at the height difference this creates, but Andrew tugs him back down with his fingers hooked into his belt loops, effectively ruining his fun.

“Rude,” Neil pouts.

“Speak for yourself,” Andrew grunts, then, pressing up against Neil's back to point at the different flavours, recites, “Matcha for Kevin, pistachio for Aaron, mango for you, cappuccino for Nicky, maple walnut for Renee.”

Nicky's advertises a miniature magical rainbow once the tub has been emptied and the maple walnut has runes for good fortune swirled in. Neil also picks up a carton of chocolate cherry for Matt and Dan which is supposed to temporarily turn you into an opera singer, as well as a boozy berry concoction for Allison that promises an enhanced beauty sleep. Andrew stacks two tubs of simple pecan and white chocolate fudge for himself on top of the pile and pushes their overcrowded shopping cart towards the exit, adding some chewing gum and a packet of cigarettes.

The cashier casts a cooling charm on their ice-cream with a smile and bids them a good day that Neil awkwardly echoes back at her in a belated attempt to gloss over Andrew's pointed silence. When they walk outside with their purchases, the sky has gone from damp cotton to crushed black velvet. Stepping into the charged warm air is a shock after the cool interior of the supermarket and a fierce, reckless wind whips discarded napkins, plastic bags and empty soda cups across the parking lot, leading them in a merry dance.

“Oh man,” Neil sighs, curving protectively over their shopping cart. “It's like that time we got lost in Walmart for an hour and when we came back outside it was suddenly eight hours later.”

Andrew just raises an eyebrow at him and starts pushing the cart in the direction of their car. They manage to unload everything before the rain starts, thick fat drops splattering on the roof of the car which is still burning hot from earlier, and Andrew shoots Neil an irritated glance when Neil races to put the shopping cart back where it belongs rather than just leaving it in the middle of the parking lot.

“You're wet,” Andrew snaps when Neil joins him in the car, hair plastered to his face.

“Yeah,” Neil pants, grinning, and fumbles his seatbelt on. “I'll get changed when we get back.”

Andrew grumbles something about not lending him any more clothes, which Neil knows is a blatant lie, but he turns down the air conditioning a bit so it doesn't blast cold air at Neil. He switches through the radio until he finds a station broadcasting today's horoscopes and Neil kicks off his shoes, leans his head against the window and tries to conjure up small coloured bubbles of light. Belle loves trying to catch them in her little hands and they're useful when Neil wants to go for a run late at night, but he isn't very good at basic charms and they keep flickering out when his focus drifts elsewhere. Still, Nicky keeps telling him to practice, so Neil gives it a half-hearted go and tries to ignore the itchy, restless feeling in his feet from being cooped up inside a small space with nowhere to go.

Something on the radio catches his attention and the wobbly green sphere of light hovering between his cupped palms pops like a soap bubble. He frowns, counting days in his head, then sags back against his seat with a long, heavy exhale.

“Andrew,” he murmurs, prodding at a sleeping cat tattooed on Andrew's elbow. It shivers awake, yawns and flicks its tail, then curls back up under the hem of Andrew's sleeve. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Wednesday.”

“No, I mean the date. It's my anniversary.”

Neil looks out at the rain-spattered landscape again, grounding himself in the purr of the car and the sound of the wind. Five years ago on this day was when Neil first came to Foxhole Circus, with nothing but a beat-up duffel bag and a whole truckload of issues and no ground to stand on. Now he has the Foxes and Andrew and a home, and for the first time in his life magic actually feels like something magical again, something to nurse and covet and marvel at.

His hand goes automatically to the back of his neck, touching and tracing the fox paw tattoo there. It is as much a symbol of his survival as it is a reminder of all the things it was worth surviving for.

Five years ago he was Nathaniel on the run. Today he is Neil, on the move by choice. A world of difference lies between the two, and Neil is grateful for that when he feels Andrew's hand in his own, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

“You can wallow in the past when we've unloaded the car,” is all Andrew says, but it's enough to pull Neil back to the present.

“I wasn't wallowing,” he says, running his thumb over the back of Andrew's hand. Andrew makes a disbelieving noise and parks the car, though they both remain seated for a while, watching the downpour.

“Can you do an umbrella charm?” Neil asks doubtfully.

“Nope.”

Neil sighs and unbuckles his seat belt, resigned to getting drenched again. At least Andrew will also have to get changed later, and if Neil plays his cards right, maybe he can persuade him to wait a little bit in between getting out of his clothes and putting new ones on.

Body heat works better than drying charms, anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback appreciated :)


End file.
